Apocalypse City
by poster108
Summary: A branch of of the uncompleted "Hell On Fire" by the same author, this story follows a man and his squad of foragers from the Storage King holdout as they attempt to survive in Post-Apocalyptia. Hardship and mystery lies ahead of Rory and his team.
1. Chapter 1

**Apocalypse City**

Chapter One

"Come on guys, we have to get out of here! Don't even know if we've lost the Zed yet." The foursome trudged through the forest, led by Rory Finnigan. They stepped lightly, for they had only just escaped the zombie attack on their storage unit. 

"I wonder what happened to the rest of-" "Shut the fuck up, Tony!" whispered Rory in a hoarse voice. He looked at the other three (Tony, Gail, and Tim) as if to say, "Don't say a damn thing." And he was right to. Their narrow escape was only due to the efforts of the guards at the storage unit. Rory had no idea whether or not anyone else had gotten away, but he couldn't worry himself with such things just now. He and his small squad, who had been just about to leave to go foraging for food, were only lucky that they had their weapons, ammo, armour, and other supplies. 

"We need to find somewhere to wait the night out." said Tim as he looked at the quickly-darkening sky. The four of them continued to fox-walk through the wood, all the while scanning near and far for a hut, a tent, an armoured car, anything that could conceal them whilst they rested. Of a sudden, Tony stopped. The rest turned to observe him pointing at something far off in the distance. Rory followed his finger to a small, log cabin in a clearing, about a 5 minute walk away. 

"How did you see that, Tony?" asked Gail in a hushed voice. Before Tony could answer, Rory stole the opportunity. 

"Smoke. Someone's in there. C'mon, they might give us refuge. Let's get closer. Watch behind us, Gail." 

Gail scanned their rear flank as they continued to walk, almost in silence, except for the occasional crunchy leaf or muffled cough, at which Rory would turn on his heel to look at the perpetrator in anger. They continued on for what seemed like forever due to the eerie hush of the trees, and the lack of tedious moans emitted from nearby corpses. 

Finally, after what seemed to the foursome to be ages, they reached the door of the cabin. Gail, Tim, and Tony all turned and planted a knee on the ground, watching behind them for any Zed about to take a chunk out of their anatomy, while Rory knocked ever-so-quietly on the heavy wooden door before him. It took a few moments, but eventually, after many quiet knocks, some shuffling inside the cabin was heard. They could hear the lock on the door undo, and a forty-something-year-old man opened the door, just so it was ajar. 

Before he could get a word out, Rory spoke. "Sir, I don't mean to be a bother, but our outpost just got overrun, and we just need a place to stay the night." The man looked him over a moment, looked back into the cabin, nodded at someone, then turned back to Rory. 

"You been followed?" he asked gruffly. Rory told him he wasn't one hundred per cent sure, but he was fairly certain that they were the only ones awaiting entry into this sanctuary. The man looked him up and down, and then finally let Rory and the others in. 

"Where'd y'all say you was from?" Now the man had gotten more than a few words out, an obvious Texan accent could be heard. 

"We came from a storage unit in town, just on the other side of the forest." answered Tony. 

The man responded naught but with a nod. He introduced himself as Buck, then introduced his son, Beau, who had until now been hiding in the shadows, and completely invisible to the others. 

"My wife died one day while we was foragin' fer food. She was an angel. God, I got over it quick. What other choice did I have? Elsewise, I would'a gotten eat by one o' them pricks out there," said Buck, breaking the awkward silence. "She was from Louisiana. She named him," he continued, pointing to Beau. "We lived in Austin for a few years, 'fore we moved up to these parts. Utah, eh? Sure as hell is better up here than down south. We got a lot o' them Californians down in Austin. Seems quite a distance, don't it? Shoot, according to one of the survivors from Malibu, just 'bout noone made it outta that state alive. Seems that just 'bout everyone from the west coast is gone." After that, noone spoke much. Hell, noone spoke at all. They just ate beans in silence, waiting, listening, watching for any sign that the dead might be just outside, waiting for their feast. 

Eventually, one by one, everyone started to nod off to sleep. Beau and Buck, of course, had their own beds. They had the courtesy, however, to lay down blankets, furs, and sleeping mats for the foursome, save Gail, for whom there was an extra cot. 

The next morning, Rory awoke with quite a startle. He was being yelled at by Gail to, "wake the fuck up." As further events would reveal, the reason was because the previous night, Rory's squad had, indeed, been followed for miles by the dead. They were now right outside the door, clawing, banging, scratching, moaning, trying monotonously to get into the cabin. 

Buck looked furiously in Rory's direction, then threw him, none too lightly, his shotgun. Rory handed it back and grabbed his uzi from beside his makeshift bedding. He walked to the window and peered out. The sight he saw was one he would never have thought was possible.

Thousands upon thousands of Zed were out there. They lined the forests' edge, pouring in from every direction, mostly concentrated toward the city, the direction from which Rory had come. The rest had no doubt heard the loud and desperate moans of their kinfolk and come hobbling along on all varieties of rotting legs that could carry them only so fast. Nonetheless, there were too many to fight, and Beau clearly knew this. All of them had their guns, but neither Buck nor Beau wanted to fire. They told Rory and his people to hold their fire as well. They all retreated into a more centred area of the cabin, into the middle of the room. Everyone but Tim. 

Of a sudden, the sound of smashing glass resounded through the woods, echoing off of every tree and every body, as one of the rotting, decayed hands destroyed the glass and grabbed Tim by the chest, pulling him in. He had been too near the window. Before anyone could react, the zombie took a chunk out of Tim's neck. He uttered a bloodcurdling scream, one of pure agony, as the zombie clenched its red, bloody meal between its teeth. It gnawed at the flesh hanging from its mouth, looking neither appeased nor finished. Much of the stringy muscle tissue fell onto the ground out of its maw as it reached in for another munch. All the while, Tim continued to cry out in pain, begging to Tony to shoot him. Begging to Tony, then to Gail, then to Rory, then to Beau and Buck, then back to Tony. He begged and pleaded for someone to end this agony that everyone knew would end in his death either way. Finally, someone worked up the courage.

Beau took a step forward, toward Tim, and looked him dead in the eye, while Tim looked back, his eyes full of fear and tears. Beau looked at him mercifully, covered his face with his hand, and shot Tim right in the head. Tim's limp body collapsed to the floor, though it was immediately pulled back up and out of the window by the walking corpses which were now distracted with getting some Tim-meat pie. 

"Everyone get in, now!" bellowed Buck. While everyone was distracted with Tim, Buck had opened a small trapdoor in the floor, into which he was beckoning the still-living. They all clambered into the hole, which turned out to be much more than just a hole. 

"Tunnels? You have tunnels going under your house, Buck?" asked Tony. Rory was simply puzzled. Who had tunnels under their house. Buck climbed in last, and slammed the trapdoor shut behind him. He locked it with upwards of 5 different locks, then put a wooden board over it, clearly meant to strengthen it against anything. 

"This cabin? Shoot, this ain't my house. This is a Goddamn fortress. Beau and me built these tunnels here soon after we found the cabin. We knew we would need an escape route if some fuck-ups-" he eyed Rory angrily at this point, "-decided to piss us over completely by bringing the dead back with 'em. And thus, we got a use for 'em. Took us right around a year an' a half to finish the tunnels, but we got it done, didn't we Beau?" Beau simply nodded in his father's direction. 

Rory suddenly noticed that they were walking down the dirt passageway, and felt unexpectedly unsafe. Buck assured him the tunnels were completely secure, unless there were explosions above them. 

"There's a fork up ahead. You'll take the right passage. It'll take you into a small town, name o' Daggett. Plenty o' supplies, good gun shop. The tunnel goes into a house on the other side o' town from the guns. Don't worry about it, it's a small town," he explained, seeing the expression on Rory's face. 

"And what about you? Where are you gonna go?" he quizzed Buck enthusiastically. 

"No offence, man, but I don' need no more trouble from you damn travellers. I'm goin' to Salt Lake. Heard they might have a settlement established there. I ain't sure though. Hell, the tunnel to the city ain't even finished yet. That's OK, there's some shovels and supplies down there. Beau and I can finish. And don't even think 'bout following' us, we got guns and we ain't afraid to use 'em." 

When they reached the split in the passageway, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Rory didn't know what was going to happen to them, but he knew there was going to be hardship, and it would start as soon as they got to the end of that tunnel. Perhaps, even, sooner. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Apocalypse City**

Chapter Two

They seemed to walk for hours and hours. None of them spoke, not because they didn't have a subject about which to talk, but because it hadn't really, truly hit them that Tim was gone. Forever. They'd never see him again, but they weren't thinking about the past. No, not the past, but the future. They didn't know what lay ahead, what a higher being, a deity, perhaps even just fate, had in store for them. Noone thought about how they got to be on Earth anymore. Everyone just thought about surviving in this forsaken world of the dead.

America's government had been quite active in the beginning of what was definitely the apocalypse. The military was present, the president was present, hell, the Governors of every state were all present. They even had clips on the news revealing the Governor of Texas with a shotgun blowing away the dead in his yard. But, that was all years ago. Now, there was no government. There were a few soldiers left, most of them being of the National Guard. You'd see them, but they were mostly looters now. A small handful of the small handful of National Guardsmen would actually help you out nowadays. They'd leave you with your weapons, but no other supplies.

They walked through the tunnel until they finally reached the end. Rory turned on his heel to face Gail and Tony, both of whom had very, very blank expressions riddled on their faces.

"Well… This must be it, eh? I guess we're finally here." He looked up at the trapdoor, listened for a moment. He heard nothing, and so he pulled on the cord that opened it, and it promptly fell open with a soft _thud_. "Let's go, shall we? Ladies first," he said as Gail clambered up onto the floor of the gun shop. Tony thrust her pistol up at her before hoisting himself up behind her. Rory took one last look down the dimly lit passageway, then climbed up onto the hardwood.

Upon looking around, he saw that everything was boarded up. He saw shadows moving outside, and faintly heard groans through the glass. He held up his index finger to his lips in the direction of Gail and Tony, telling them to be quiet. Tony turned around, his eyes continually distant. He walked over to the counter, as did the other two.

"Hey, look at this," whispered Tony, and he picked up a note off the marble. He read it aloud, very quietly, very wearily, for all that separated them from the undead hordes outside was a few 2x4's and some drywall.

"If you've found this note, congratulations. You just earned yourself a loosely supplied gun store! Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jack McGill, and I own this place. Or rather, I did, before the devil came back to Earth to kill us, or eat us, all. I've only taken a pistol, a shotgun, and some bullets. The rest I can only assume has been looted. I left here about two weeks into the disaster. Everything that you can find in here, you can have. I wish you the best of luck, and-"

Tony stopped talking and looked up. "That's it. Nothing else. Just… Well, look for yourself."

Rory grabbed the poorly scrawled note out of Tony's hand and looked at it. The letter did, indeed, end there. There was dried blood under the words. He looked on the counter where the note was, and there was a lot more blood. There was a trail to a spot about 3 feet away, as well as a few 9mm shells and a pool of blood. There was a rotting corpse, nearly just a skeleton, lying on the floor a few inches away from the shells.

"Looks like someone got eaten…" observed Gail as she leant over the blood. "He must've been writing, then got bit from behind… Died and reanimated, just like the rest of 'em. Poor bastard."

"Nothin' we can do now. Let's get some weapons, huh?" remarked Tony, and he began to search the building. Rory and Gail looked at each other, then helped Tony in his search. They came upon a safe, an open safe, and peered inside. There was nearly six thousand dollars in hundred- and twenty-dollar bills.

"What the fuck does this do for us? Shit…" said Rory, but Tony piped up from the other end of the shop.

"Hey guys! Check it out! We're in business!" He held up a couple shotguns. "There's loads of guns in these cabinets! Let's grab 'em and find somewhere to hunker down the night. Hey, whatcha got there, Rory?" He walked over and looked into the safe. "Oh sweet, cash." said Tony as he began to stuff his pockets. He looked at the other two as if they were insane not to be following his example.

"That's useless, Tony. It's money. Money has no value now," scolded Gail. Tony replied, only by saying that they may find a colony that still uses money, or start one of their own. The other two agreed sullenly, then filled their pockets as well. They walked over to the gun cabinets and their faces lit up in awe. They began to grab weapons and ammo by the armful. Tony grabbed a shotgun, threw it over his back by the strap, grabbed an AK-47, and threw it over his back as well. He proceeded to grab two pistols and shove them in his waistband and then looked around for a bag for ammunition. Gail grabbed a rifle and two pistols, and Rory grabbed his weapon of choice. He grabbed a Skorpion submachine gun, along with two pistols. Tony came back with four bags for ammunition. They all stocked their respective bags with ammo, then filled the fourth with canned food and water they found in the back room.

"We'll take turns carrying it when we travel. I'll take it the first day, then Gail, then Tony, then back to me. Agreed?" reasoned Rory. Everyone nodded in affirmation. They found 3 cots in the back and gradually fell asleep after much debate over whether or not the zombies would die out soon.

"If you guys think about it, it takes roughly 2 years for a body to decompose enough that it can't move. Figure that in with the slowed rate of decomposition that we've evidently seen, I would say… six years. So roughly three and a half years and we should be all set." Gail had been a doctor before recent events, and the other two accepted her word as law, simply because she knew a hell of a lot more than they would on the subject of decaying human bodies.

They woke up the next morning fairly groggy. They knew they had to leave that day. There were more groaning shadows outside the boarded up windows than the previous night. Some of them were even trying to get in. The zombies knew they were there.

The trio ate their breakfast, consisting of canned beans and some very watered-down apple juice made from terrible mix, grabbed their things and congregated at the back door.

"Everyone ready? Got ammo, food, water, et cetera?" asked Rory. There was no time for a reply, because just then, the board covering the flimsily repaired front door snapped, and zombies began to trickle in, one by one. Rory took one horrified look at the corpses, then looked at the thick wooden door in front of him, kicked it open, and shouted at the other two to follow him. They ran across the street, took a look at their surroundings for a moment, then ran towards a nearby police station. The zombies saw them, and started slowly making their way to the threesome.

Rory ran up to the door, and pulled at it. It didn't open. He tugged and tugged, but there was no way it would open. Suddenly, a voice came over an intercom beside the door.

"_Who the hell are you? Hey, asshole, get your hands off my door._" They told the mysterious voice who they were and their predicament. "_God damn it… Alright, get inside." There was a slight buzzing noise and the door popped open slightly. Tony grabbed the handle and yanked it open. They all ducked inside and slammed the door behind them. A man was waiting just inside the doorway for them, looking down the barrel of a single shot shotgun._

"_What are you doin' here?" he bellowed hoarsely at them. They, once again, told the man their issue, and what had happened recently. "A gun shop eh? Hey, John!' the man called over his shoulder, his shotgun now lowered. "These folks say they found a gun shop! We can finally get s'more ammo! Ain't that a coincidence!" He turned back to the trio. "We been fendin' off them dead for days now. We just got rid o' the last of 'em when you lot came along." he growled. He grumbled as he walked back down the hall. Rory looked at the other two, then they followed him down the corridor. He pointed the armoury, mess hall, sleeping quarters, and other related necessary places in the precinct out to them before he went back to the front security office. _

_They were given cots to set up in the holding areas by John, the apparent leader of the group of police officers, doctors, firefighters, and citizens from nearby who went to the precinct for safety at the beginning of the outbreak. Rory soon realized that night was quickly falling, and suddenly felt very tired. He lay down on his cot, and his last thought was that he had finally done some good by Tony and Gail; brought them to safety. _


End file.
